


Big Yellow Taxi

by there_north



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Drabble, Implied Hardy/Miller, Jocelyn's Perspective, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_north/pseuds/there_north
Summary: Jocelyn Knight remembers when she first met Ellie Miller. If she could call the full force collision with her legs a meeting. The five-year-old was all curls, bright colours  and mud, topped off with a huge smile. Long before Jocelyn had the task of convicting Ellie's husband.





	1. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story based off 'Big Yellow Taxi' by Joni Mitchell (Counting Crows cover) - source of title too.

There’s a break in the horrid weather, a calm to the storm. It’s been torrential for days now, the cool change has certainly hit with force. Jocelyn decides to go for a walk while she has the chance.

“Don’t be too long! I’m making scampi linguini!” Maggie calls out as Jocelyn pulls on her coat.

“Okay,” Jocelyn calls back, sliding the door shut behind her as she heads towards the track down the side of her house.

The sun has started to set, casting gold across Broadchurch. The sails in the harbour still clink together in the calmer breeze, the grey atmosphere broken by bright lights throughout the town and the setting sun. Jocelyn doesn’t see anyone on her walk, not until she’s in the harbour, trailing past the chippy, does she see the coloured coats on the pier.

The orange jacket is unmistakable. There’s a small bright green raincoat thundering around, followed by red and blue ones. The final figure is in black, but that was predictable. Jocelyn stops walking, pausing under the shelter of the small buildings to watch the five figures. Ellie and Hardy are leaning against the pier wall, he has his hands in his pockets, hers across her chest. They’re talking about something, though Jocelyn can’t tell what – her eyesight isn’t good enough to see faces from afar anymore. Fred is charging around wildly. She can hear his laughter from here as Tom and Daisy run around after him, a football at Daisy’s feet.

After the past two years this town has been through, she’s seen so much happen. So much change. Though slowly, over the past months, things have been repairing. But Jocelyn’s seen Broadchurch change for nearly seventy years now. She’s watched the town, buildings, businesses, the people, the individuals. But some have held her attention more than others.

 

* * *

 

Jocelyn Knight remembers when she first met Ellie Miller. The Barrett family had just moved back to Broadchurch, after being gone for seven years. Jocelyn had gone to school with Ellie’s mother, a few grades above, though she didn’t really know her. Different people. Different life paths. Jocelyn had just been to the book store Mrs Barrett worked at, and was walking through the park when she met Ellie. If she could call the full force collision with her legs a meeting.

The five-year-old was all curls, bright colours  and mud, topped off with a huge smile. Jocelyn is sure Ellie doesn’t remember the encounter, otherwise she’d probably be embarrassed by it now, but Jocelyn remembers it clear as day. The way Ellie jumped up off the ground, apologising to Jocelyn with that mischievous smile, pushing the curls that had escaped her pony tail back out of her face. There was a bright orange ribbon in her hair, completely undone, and her knees were scuffed, dungarees grass stained. Jocelyn still remembers all the times Ellie’s mother complained about her daughter insisting on wearing shorts or pants.

The encounter was over before it really started. One second Ellie was apologising, the next she was charging back off down the path, as a ten-year-old Lucy charged after her, yelling about behaving and not getting into trouble. How the tables turned on that one. Jocelyn simply watched Ellie, as the little whirlwind sprinted away, and couldn’t help wondering how this tiny child would turn out. The whole world in front of her, ready to fight every battle, hopefully not the same misogynistic ones Jocelyn had been struggling with for three decades. Jocelyn wonders now, if she knew then, how amazing that child would end up.

That Christmas, Jocelyn sat with her mother, watching the Nativity play at St. Bede’s. Ellie Barrett was the donkey, who got kicked up the bum by one of the angels, played by Lucy. Jocelyn only really got glimpses of Ellie growing up. July and December, when she came home to visit her parents, and then eventually just her mother. Jocelyn was fighting a power battle in London, but by God was she good at it. Jocelyn knew she’d become one of the Crown Court’s greats. She was too arrogant to concede, anyhow. Perhaps she has a knack for it, seeing, _knowing,_ the good ones. 

Like the following year, when Jocelyn was in the bookstore and Ellie, waiting for her mother, managed to pull down a whole shelf of books. Thomas Hardy, Shakespeare and Tolkien smashed into Jane Austen, Hemingway and Burns. Jocelyn left the store before the shouting started, too scared to be caught laughing at the hurricane Ellie arose. Jocelyn certainly wasn’t surprised at Christmas three years later, when watching the under ten’s football match, Ellie was the only girl on the team.

 

Jocelyn managed to get glimpses of Ellie making numerous friends over the years. Mostly boys. Despite her upfront shyness to anyone not in her own age bracket, she seemed to be good at making random friends. Never one to do the chasing, Jocelyn watched as Ellie lead around a young, gangly boy when she was about eight. Ellie in dungarees, boots, and bright stripes – as always. He was in shorts and those Converse things, his head of dark hair almost as out-of-order as Ellie’s curls. Jocelyn watched them prance back and forth across the harbour, rolling around on the dock, seemingly warring with some invisible enemy as they shouted and cheered at one another.

Jocelyn was home the Christmas of the year Ellie started secondary school. She looked too small to be in that drowning uniform, only slightly changed since Jocelyn wore it herself. Jocelyn was walking home from drinks with a friend when she saw Lucy, sixteen years of age, running across the Harbour with her friends, high heels, short skirts and squeals, from one pub to the other. Jocelyn knew then, unsurprisingly, who the real trouble out of the two sisters was. It’s also not a surprise when her mother offhandedly mentions five years later that Lucy Barrett is having a baby with the young man Jocelyn saw with his tongue down Lucy’s throat that same night.

Jocelyn’s invited around to meet the baby when he comes. A get-together for anyone and everyone to meet Oliver. She’s not sure why she goes – but her mother wants to, so Jocelyn follows. Lucy is clearly besotted. As is the baby’s father and both Lucy’s parents. Jocelyn cringes for Ellie every time someone asks the seventeen-year-old when she’s going to have a baby. Jocelyn almost laughs at the face Ellie contorts when someone suggests she find a boyfriend soon. But Jocelyn knows that one day Ellie will have children, despite her current aversion to Oliver and anything boyfriend related.

(Jocelyn has also seen her down a narrow lane once or twice, clearly enjoying herself, without the constraint of a full time boyfriend).

Jocelyn suspects Ellie has other plans first though. She knows Ellie will have thought about what she’s going on to do once she’s eighteen and nothing is going to stop her. There’s not a chance Ellie is going down the path of seventy percent of Broadchurch girls – young marriage, young parenthood. She’ll probably make a good mother, when the time comes. But Jocelyn knows Ellie will also be brilliant at whatever it is she’s determined to achieve.

 

Jocelyn doesn’t return to Broadchurch for another three years. Caught up with work, this time it’s not a lie, so her mother visits her in London instead. But when she does come back, for another cold Christmas, nothing has really changed. There’s been two store changes to High Street, the _Echo_ has a new sign and the secondary school girls have been permitted to wear pants, if they so choose. Jocelyn immediately thinks of Ellie Barrett, who would be out of school now, and probably ready to kick someone over the fact she never got to wear pants.

Lucy’s the first member of the Barrett family she sees, in which she also finds out it’s Lucy Stevens now. Jocelyn's mother was invited to the wedding. Jocelyn couldn’t attend as her plus one. Important court case. Everything is dictated by _important_ court cases now. Oliver is holding Lucy’s hand as they walk towards her on High Street. He looks like his father, thick dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, pointy ears and what will end up being a sharp jawline, once the baby fat goes away. The three-year-old doesn’t need encouragement to say hello, he happily bounds up to Jocelyn and greets her, a huge grin plastered across his face. Jocelyn then sees his auntie at an age not much older than Oliver – that cheeky grin, as if she knew something you didn’t, which she normally did.

Lucy’s friendly, happy, but looks tired. No longer the teenager who used to wreak havoc on the town. Although, Jocelyn suspects Lucy still does cause trouble, in other ways now.

After exchanging pleasantries with Lucy, Jocelyn hurries past the _Echo_ office, weaving behind other people to avoid Maggie getting any hint of her presence. God, how did that all go so wrong. As she rounds the corner in her hurry, she collides with someone. Ellie catches Jocelyn, keeping her upright as Ellie stumbles on top of a bag. There’s a rush of apologies from Ellie, whilst Jocelyn watches the girl, well, young woman now, trying to untangle herself from the strap of her overnight bag.

Ellie’s still a cyclone of curly hair, but she’s grown up more in the face, light make-up where there was once completely none at all, and a new built strength. Ellie says hello, makes an awkward comment about Jocelyn being back for Christmas again. Jocelyn in return, gracelessly states Ellie is also either returning, or leaving, with the backpack and overnight bag she’s carrying. Ellie mentions she lives further North at the moment. They wish one another a Happy Christmas, despite knowing they’ll see each other a handful more times before then – it is Broadchurch – and then Ellie hurries off.

Jocelyn can’t help smiling as she walks away. She also can’t help wondering why Ellie lives further north, although there was something in the way Ellie handled the collision that steers Jocelyn away from the university option. Towards a different kind of training. Jocelyn is a female lawyer and cannot explain how difficult her fight through the ranks has been. It makes Jocelyn uncomfortable when she realises she is proud. Proud that Ellie might have picked one of the hardest professional futures a female can fight for.

Jocelyn’s right of course. It’s three quarters into her mother’s bi-yearly long-spill about Broadchurch comings and goings that she offhandedly mentions that Ellie graduated from Wessex Police training and moved further North to work as a WPC. How Jocelyn hates _‘WPC’._ Why do they have to put ‘woman’ in front of the rank? Nonetheless, Jocelyn smiles, thinking of Ellie running around in fluoro with a baton and handcuffs, and the image melds into similar memories of Ellie running around as a child. Jocelyn is glad Ellie has a sense of justice, many in Broadchurch don’t. Ellie’s on her team now.

Later, Broadchurch’s children are surrounding the altar, acting out the Nativity. Baby Jesus is Liz Roper’s baby granddaughter. Liz’s daughter is only fifteen, her boyfriend seventeen. They named the baby Chloe, or at least that’s what Jocelyn thinks the vicar says. Jocelyn is standing with her mum after the service, avoiding Maggie Radcliffe. It’s too awkward at the moment. Jocelyn needs to decide what she’s going to do. Instead though, her attention turns to Oliver Stevens, dressed as a shepherd, tea towel secured around his head. He’s teetering on his Auntie Ellie’s toes as she rocks back and forth. Lucy and Mrs Barrett are cooing over Chloe. Jocelyn watches Mrs Barrett motion to Ellie, then to the baby. Ellie gives her mother a steely glare.

 

Jocelyn sometimes finds herself wondering about the lives of Broadchurch residents when she’s away in London (no matter how long she’s lived in the city she still thinks of it as being away from home). It’s when she’s coming out of the court room after a family law case that she thinks of Ellie. Not because of the family law, but because of the two police officers, a little older than Ellie, standing and waiting for Jocelyn and her unofficial client. _You work for the law, Jocelyn, not the families._

Jocelyn walks over to them and the male officer offers to escort the mother and son to the bathroom. Jocelyn is left with the female, who is in a trance as she watches the father and daughter on the other side of the room.

“Do you have children?” The words fly out of Jocelyn’s mouth before she can stop them. It’s not like her to ask these sorts of questions of strangers. Let alone be interested. But something in the officer’s face made the words shoot out.

The officer turns to her, regards her for a moment before sighing deeply and half-nodding, “I – I, well, yeah.”

Jocelyn is immediately interested, but feigns casual conversation. _Why did she stutter?_

“The baby, my daughter that is,” the officer says quietly, clearly not wanting anyone to know. “I see her sometimes. Her dad, my husband, he brings her to visit. They still live in Glasgow.”

Jocelyn nods. Doesn’t speak. Waits for the officer.

“I got this job. I told him to stay behind. He’s a PC too. Strathclyde. I don’t think I can be her mother. But he’s a good dad,” the police officer meets Jocelyn’s eye, to solidify the truth.

Jocelyn doesn’t ask her any more questions.

 

When she visits Jack Marshall at his new store, and feels the guilt ripping her inside out that she unknowingly placed him amongst children’s paraphernalia, in the fire line for children themselves, she finds herself with headache that apparently is common with her returns Broadchurch.

So when Liz Roper’s _just_ twenty-year-old, with a five year old daughter and twenty-two year old husband, shows off her new baby son, Jocelyn’s mind has started to wander. She doesn’t process that Beth Rope– Beth Latimer’s talking about Ellie Barrett being overdue until she’s back home, wondering who the hell Ellie and Joe are. When it clicks Jocelyn is not so much surprised, just confused. Her mother hadn’t mentioned this about Ellie.

Nonetheless, Jocelyn  knows Ellie will continue to work whatever it takes, and Ellie’s child will be raised in a strong home, where inequality is becoming eliminated.

 

Jocelyn isn’t introduced to Tom Miller, instead he runs into her when he’s two-and-a-half. _Like mother like son._ The little boy is blonde hair and blue eyes when he collides with her legs. He’s got his colouring from his father – who Jocelyn has recently discovered is a paramedic. But when the little boy looks up, he’s all Ellie. With sharp cheek bones and a slightly up-turned nose, and half a frown of confusion, more at himself and how he lost control so suddenly. Then he grins at Jocelyn and she remembers thinking Oliver was like Ellie, but this little boy is more so than anything. His defiant smile somehow brightens his yellow raincoat, tugged on over dungarees, stripes and bright orange wellies.

“Hi!” He cheers up at Jocelyn.

“Hello,” Jocelyn can’t help the laugh that enters her tone. She knows who he belongs to before she sees Ellie running up the path after him.

The toddler turns to see his mum, and shoots up to her, wrapping around her leg. Ellie rests a hand on his head as she turns to Jocelyn.

“It’s alright, he did no harm,” Jocelyn says before Ellie can apologise. Always apologising this girl. Well, woman now.

Ellie nods with a grin, “Right. Hello then.”

“Hi,” Jocelyn finds herself smiling more than she’s done in weeks.

Ellie crouches down to her son’s height. “Did you say hello?”

“Yes, Mummy,” the little boy replies.

“This is Tom,” Ellie introduces him to Jocelyn. _Tom, or Thomas, to mean ‘a twin’._ Jocelyn finds it surprisingly fitting for Ellie’s tiny duplicate.

 

Jocelyn’s career was finished. What a waste. What an absolute fucking waste. She was – no, she _is_ brilliant. All because the body fails the mind. What a joke. How many people she could have helped. Her paradise gone. But this was coming. She knew it was. Doesn’t mean it sucks any less. So, she comes back to Broadchurch. Her mum is in a home now. The mind fails the body. But Broadchurch is home. She has her house on the hill. Things have changed.

There’s a new police station. Situated amongst new living, a concrete and wood panel structure on the harbour. Jocelyn walks down from her house to inspect it, trekking along the dock to the circular buildings. She stops when she sees Ellie Miller, walking out of the bottom door, rubbing at her face, curly hair shorter, but still all over the place. She’s in plain clothes – well, trousers and a shirt – but wearing hiking boots, police ID clipped to her waistband.

“Mum!” Tom sprints across the paved area, arms flapping wildly with a piece of painted on butcher’s paper. “Mummy!” He’s still young enough to add the extra m and y.

Jocelyn watches Ellie immediately vault up out of her trudge, bending at the knees to catch Tom, a huge smile printed across her face as one hand cups the back of his dark blonde head, the other around his waist. He must be eight or nine by now. Jocelyn looks around for any other children, but Tom’s dad is standing by himself. Jocelyn turns back to Ellie, who is fixing the cuffs on Tom’s school jumper, whilst he excitedly talks about his day, shows her his painting.

Jocelyn doesn’t often find herself interested in people’s personal lives, outside of cases. Certainly would never question them about it. Though she can’t help wonder, why Ellie Miller has only Tom. Perhaps she only wanted one child, but Jocelyn never thought her the type. Lucy, certainly. She only has Oliver. But Ellie didn’t hate Lucy so much that she’d have been put off Tom having siblings, surely?

There was always the career reason, Ellie had clearly move onto CID, which can’t have been easy or time permitting. Of course, there’s always infertility issues. Perhaps Tom was a fluke. But why was this any of Jocelyn’s business. Ellie Miller was a good police officer, and seemed to be a good mother.

However, when Jocelyn turns down the condiment aisle at the supermarket a year later, and Tom Miller, bouncing around in his football kit, muddy socks leaving marks on the linoleum, asks his mum for raspberry jam, Jocelyn notes the slight swell under Ellie’s jumper as she reaches for the top shelf.

 

Fred wrenches his way into the world four months later. He’s three weeks early, Jocelyn finds out from a rambling Oliver, as he takes up his new position at the _Echo._ Apparently Ellie will go back to work in three months, then Joe will stop work and take over. Jocelyn feels slightly satisfied that Ellie isn’t pausing her career. _Good girl,_ she thinks.

But if Jocelyn thought Tom was a replica of a little Ellie, she was mistaken when she properly meets Fred, at a youth football match in May. The eight month old is scrambling across the grass, chasing after his mum, who keeps shuffling backwards as the baby cackles with delight. Aside from the blue eyes, he’s all Ellie. Dungarees, stripy top, bright coloured socks, a huge, cheeky grin that livens his whole tiny person, and a mop of dark curly hair. Fred’s all loud noises and happiness, Jocelyn even thinks she hears him say ‘sock’, but surely he’s too young.

He looks up at her as she walks past, squeaks with a grin.

“Hello,” Jocelyn replies. He waves and then looks to his mum. “Hello Ellie,” Jocelyn greets her too.

“Hi,” Ellie smiles, just like her boy. “How are you?”

“Well, thank you,” Jocelyn nods. “He’s lovely,” she motions towards Fred. Ellie just smiles in response, clearly agreeing.

Jocelyn smiles too, but only once her back is turned and she’s walking away, listening to Fred babbling away at his mum. Eight weeks later a child’s body is found on the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Broadchurch & characters belong to Chris Chibnall and ITV


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a bit long to post as one chapter, so this part picks up where the last left off.

The new Detective Inspector blows into the town with a cast of grey. _He’s a Scot._ Jocelyn hears people telling one another on High Street. _DI Jock, and he looks like shit._ Jocelyn sees him for the first time when she’s down in the harbour. He comes billowing out of the relatively new Broadchurch station, like a bat out of hell. Black mac flapping in the wind behind him. Jocelyn wants to be angry with him, wants to dislike him on principal – it’s never publicly known, but Jocelyn thinks that maybe the job should have been Ellie Miller’s – except Jocelyn looks at him a realises she can’t hate him.

Because he doesn’t look like most male Detective Inspectors. Despite the harsh appearance, and she hates to say the town is right, he does look like shit, he’s long and lanky, well, skinny to be honest, with harsh eyebrows, stubble and dark, uncontrolled hair, but when he passes her he’s looking at the ground. Jocelyn’s eyesight may be failing, but today she can see his dark eyes, and she knows that he’s not a bad person. She knows he’s protecting himself.  

It's later at home when she searches ‘DI Hardy’ that the flood gates of Sandbrook open and she remembers why he looks familiar. But she also knows that Sandbrook isn’t the only reason he looks the way he does. It can’t be. There has to be something more.

 

Hardy and Miller. Established in 2013. Britain’s Worst Detectives. Except they’re really not. Jocelyn is on the other side of a bank as they walk past, arguing about trust and truth. With every jab Hardy makes, Ellie blows one right back. For years Jocelyn’s noticed Ellie being a good police officer, now she’s watching her become a good detective. But she can see something else occurring there too. There’s not a doubt in Jocelyn’s mind that Hardy and Ellie will be good friends, whether they admit it or not. It’s just there’s a niggling feeling that perhaps Ellie’s commitment ten years ago, wasn’t the right one. They barely tolerate one another right now. But who knows how the resolve of Danny Latimer case may change that.

Paul Coates blames Alec Hardy for Jack Marshall’s death. Jocelyn watches from a back pew in the church. People are blaming Hardy left, right and centre. He’s an easy target. Jocelyn doesn’t blame Hardy for Jack’s death. Broadchurch has become a nasty place recently. Perhaps Jack’s death was a long time coming. It doesn’t stop Jocelyn from missing him. 

 

Joe Miller killed Danny Latimer. Joe was meeting Danny. Jocelyn watches as Ellie is quickly alienated by her community. Hardy is there, every time Ellie is anywhere. Jocelyn knew the verdict would solidify their friendship, whatever the reason. But she certainly didn’t expect this. It’s horrible and unfair. For Hardy, for Ellie, for Tom and Fred.

Jocelyn knows how life is, how cruel and imbalanced, but she thought maybe, she _hoped,_ Ellie would blaze through. But this is what happens. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone, and shit always happens to good people. Jocelyn watches Ellie leave. That’s just it. Jocelyn watches. But doesn’t know how to help. What could possibly help Ellie through this?

Jocelyn takes on the case for the prosecution. For Danny. For Broadchurch. For Ellie. For Tom and Fred.

 

Hardy makes a sarcastic comment in the box and Jocelyn has to stop herself from blatantly grinning.

Jocelyn needs to take four deep breaths before she stands to face Ellie Miller in the box. God she wants to do the right thing by the Latimers, of course she does. But she also needs Joe Miller to be locked away, because over time she has come to like Ellie too much. Not that she wouldn’t do the same for anyone, but this case matters so much more. This isn’t anyone. When Sharon accuses Ellie and Hardy of an affair, Jocelyn cringes, knowing people will believe it. Just like people have chosen to believe that Ellie Miller knew about Joe, about him killing Danny. But how could she?

After watching Ellie for years, Jocelyn still doesn’t know her well enough to help her. The best she can do is convict Joe.

 

Hardy and Ellie become inseparable. They don’t shy from the accusations. They unknowingly form a united resilience. Because it’s a simple as that – Hardy is here for her. Ellie is there for him. They’ve both been spun through the ringer, dropped by everyone, and still they fight on. Jocelyn can’t do anything else but silently admire them.

Ellie shouts at Tom in the courthouse. _About bloody time,_ Jocelyn thinks. Tom’s not a bad boy. God knows what he’s going through. But Ellie comes through in him, she sees it in his determination, the way he fights to not back down. Once again, Jocelyn unexpectedly feels proud when she remembers that tiny whirlwind in dungarees and stripes.

 

The defence wins. Jocelyn can take a loss, but this one mattered. It hurts. She tells Maggie it’s about the town knowing she failed, but it’s more than that. She failed Danny, the Latimers. She failed Ellie and Tom and Fred. Even Hardy. Jocelyn asks Maggie if she thinks they’ll be strong enough? Jocelyn doubts the Latimers. But there is not a chance she doubts Ellie Miller’s strength. Especially not when two days later it’s in the news that the Sandbrook case has been solved. Jocelyn stands on her balcony, holds her wine glass in the air, to Ellie Miller and Alec Hardy.

 

Hardy has disappeared as quietly as he came. Ellie is back in her house, with her boys. Jocelyn watches a lone orange figure stalking along the cliff top track. Half complete without it’s dark companion.

Hardy helped Miller become a brilliant detective. Ellie helped Alec find who he was again.

 

Jocelyn asks Maggie to marry her. Maggie says yes.

 

Maggie insists on going to the Sandbrook sentencing. Jocelyn finds herself compelled to go too. She’s become alarmingly proud of Ellie Miller over the past thirty-five years, and recently fond of Alec bloody Hardy. Jocelyn wants it to see it go right for them.

Unsurprisingly, half of Broadchurch comes too. Oliver is understandable, he’s become obsessively attached to the Sandbrook Case, Beth and Mark want to support Cate Gillespie – apparently Beth and her have met up – and of course Nigel Carter tags along. Paul Coates groups in too, as do Becca Fisher and Lucy Stevens.

Jocelyn tries not to smile at the pissed look on Ellie’s face when she sees them all. But they’re nothing compared to the mass of people waiting outside the Crown Court, all waiting for the long-time coming decision, justice for Pippa and Lisa.

Ellie separates from the group, talks to a female officer from South Mercia, then she’s alone again, waiting. When Jocelyn looks back over, Hardy is next to her. He looks the same, except he’s at least shaved back to a stubble. If Ellie looked awkward, Hardy looks like he’s going to the gallows. All his former colleagues staring, Hardy locked still and quietly talking to Ellie. Jocelyn knows some bit of how he’s feeling. She’s waited with bated breath more times that she can count for a verdict.

Only recently has she understood why the investigating officers are so on edge in court rooms. Because for them the case is more than a case. It’s important. Jocelyn knows how important this is to him, to Ellie. Especially after the Broadchurch case. Jocelyn gets into the court room because of who she is, so do Hardy and Ellie. Maggie and Oliver are also allowed in, they’re press, and then a huge amount of South Mercia police filter in to. Jocelyn watches Hardy and Ellie tense as Lee Ashworth enters the room. With a trained observant eye, she thinks perhaps she can see Hardy gripping Ellie’s trouser leg. But her eyesight isn’t what it was.

Jocelyn fights to not smile – it would be inappropriate – but the look on Ellie’s face, the look on Hardy’s face, as the third ‘guilty’ is stated. Through displaying so little, they tell so much. Perhaps now they can be set free.

Outside the courthouse, the people have dispersed. The Broadchurch gang head out, Jocelyn lingers, watching Hardy share a look with an older officer from South Mercia. The same man shakes Ellie’s hand, says thank you. Jocelyn moves outside as Cate Gillespie watches Hardy, almost with a look of appreciation. Oliver is rambling on about how ‘sick this article will be’ as Maggie admonishes him half-heartedly.

Jocelyn looks back at the building. Hardy and Ellie can be seen through a window. Talking to the woman Ellie was talking to earlier.

“DS Tess Henchard,” Maggie nudges Jocelyn. “Hardy’s ex.”

Jocelyn tries and fails to pretend Tess Henchard isn’t the young police officer from the London court fourteen years ago.

 

Maggie and Jocelyn get married in St. Bede’s. Paul is happy to accept them. They have a big reception at Jocelyn’s.

 

Daisy Hardy looks like, speaks like (albeit in an English accent), has mannerisms and facial expressions like, and overall is just like her dad. Jocelyn doesn’t need a back story to know who raised Daisy, who was there all the time.

Daisy’s dark blonde, or light brown hair – Jocelyn sees it differently in different lights – and greyer eyes aren’t from her dad himself, maybe his family, but she has his eye shape, his face shape, and bloody hell does she have his smile. Not to mention the overwhelming attitude similarities – Daisy’s just less damaged by life. 

At the wedding, she watches Daisy and Tom sharing a piece of cake as they both lean against Hardy, who has Fred in his lap, reading a picture book. When Daisy decides to shove a chunk of cake into her dad’s mouth, Tom happily joining in, Jocelyn turns to watch Ellie, who in turn is watching Hardy and the children.

 

* * *

 

It’s only now, watching Ellie and Hardy on the pier, that something of recognition tugs in her chest, and she can’t help but connect dots to that day she watched Ellie and a boy charging around the harbour. _It can’t have been Hardy_ , Jocelyn rationalises. _They’d remember one another, surely._ Jocelyn wishes she’d heard the boy speak thirty odd years ago.

Daisy kicks the ball in the air and Hardy catches it before it goes into the water. Jocelyn went with Maggie to the youth match the other day. Daisy’s the only girl on the team, and a good goalkeeper at that. Jocelyn finds it interesting, how Daisy appears more like Ellie than her own mother.

Hardy and Daisy live with Ellie and the boys at the moment. Have done for the past five months now, since Hardy returned with Daisy.  Jocelyn overheard Lucy telling Oliver that she doesn’t know whether Hardy and Daisy will ever move out of Ellie’s. Not with the way they act as a family. The five of them.

They do look like a family, Jocelyn thinks watching them. Fred extends his arms to Hardy, who picks him and settles him in his arms, Fred wrapping his arms around Hardy’s neck, face buried into the crook. Hardy kisses Fred’s curls, watching Ellie and Tom arguing over something. Tom makes a flapping arm motion and Ellie nods. The five of them start walking back down the pier, Tom and Daisy charging ahead with the ball.

“Don’t go too far!” Ellie calls to them.

Jocelyn pulls herself tighter to the wall, out of sight of the family. Fred wriggles to be put down, and as soon as Hardy’s lowered him, he’s off and running, charging after his older siblings. Well, his older brother and Daisy, but Jocelyn supposes Fred doesn’t know the difference.

Jocelyn watches the children until they round the corner, then her attention is drawn back to the detectives. Hardy is holding Ellie’s jacket, tugging her along as she looks at her phone, talking to him about whatever she’s looking at. When Hardy stops walking suddenly, Ellie bumps into him. Ellie slaps him as he laughs. Jocelyn knows he only laughs with Ellie and the children.

Whilst Ellie fights her phone back into her pocket, Jocelyn watches Hardy watching Ellie. His words from last year ring through her mind. _Maybe you should._ Jocelyn did. Hardy should too. Despite her ever increasing blindness, it doesn’t pass Jocelyn’s eye that Hardy continues to hold onto Ellie’s jacket, his fingers hooked in pocket, beside her hand.

Broadchurch has changed in Jocelyn’s near seventy years. It’s certainly changed in the past two. Lives and homes torn apart, never the same. But Jocelyn knows, no matter how much they change things, no matter how far he drifts, Hardy will be a constant here, and Ellie will continue to charge on through. 


End file.
